


Firefightin' For Love

by HeartOfTheMirror



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Police, Bucky is a Firefighter, F/M, Firefighters, First Time, M/M, Steve is a cop, Steve is a dweeb, no powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:35:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is a shy homicide detective who shows up 15 minutes early to birthday parties and relies on his mother’s wisdom for fashion advice. While determined to catch whoever is responsible for a deadly string of arsons in NYC, he’s also determined to catch the eye of NYFD firefighter, Bucky Barnes. With the help of wingmen Sam Wilson and Tony Stark, and a nudge or two from Clint and Natasha, Steve and Bucky crack a case and crack open a few beers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the ever lovely Moirai for all her encouragement and for betaing this!
> 
> The original idea was based on a gorgeous fanart but unfortunatetly I have forgotten who drew it.

“You’re a sick man,” Sam said, shaking his head before taking a long sip of his steaming black coffee. Steve looked over at the passenger seat of the silver Crown Vic, face twisted in that godforsakenly adorable expression of confusion. 

Like any good driver he quickly looked back at the road. Even for a cop, driving anywhere in NYC was a tricky business.

“Well, not anymore. I mean, I really struggled with illness when I was a kid. There were a few close calls before I hit puberty- nearly scared my ma half to death- but I haven’t been seriously sick in years.” Sam rested his face in his palm in a poor attempt to hide his ridiculous smile from his partner. 

“Not like that man. You’re sick in the head for looking forward to arson calls like you do. Ever since Fireman Barnes-” Sam said, calling out the name in sing-song and watching the doll-pink blush burn at Steve’s cheeks.

“That is totally out of line Sam! And not true at all. I certainly do not have a crush on Barnes. That is completely… completely out of left field!” Steve nearly hit a parked cruiser as he pulled up to the curb of the scene.

“I love how you stop using contractions when you lie,” Sam said, stepping out of the car casually and taking another nonchalant sip of the over brewed sludge he’d poured for himself back at the station. Flustered, and trying with grim determination to hide it, Steve followed him toward the tape line that surrounded the smoldering remains of the apartment building, sidestepping around the rubberneckers that the uniformed officers were still trying to keep in check. 

Officer Carter held the tape up for them as they passed, smiling flirtatiously at Steve. He managed to pull up one corner of his mouth in a return grin, still feeling a bit self-conscious from Sam’s ribbing and not up to their usual playful back and forth. 

He tried to be subtle as he scanned for a familiar figure amid the firemen who were still milling around making sure the blaze didn’t flare up again. If Sam’s snort was anything to go by, subtle was still not Detective Steve Rogers’s middle name. He caught a flash of brunet hair and broad shoulders and snapped his gaze in the opposite direction. 

By this time Sam was a few paces ahead chatting to the commanding officer who had called them on scene when it became apparent that this was more than just a case for the arson department. Steve smiled at officer Jones, holding out his hand for a brisk shake and nodding along as Jones filled them in on the particulars. 

“You know what Steve? Why don’t you go get caught up with the boys from the FD and we can fill each other in later.” Sam said it with such casual nonchalance that for a second even Steve was convinced that he couldn’t possibly have any ulterior motive for his seemingly logical suggestion.

Steve narrowed his eyes at his partner for a second before nodding his ascent. Even if he’d have to hear about it endlessly later, pretending to listen to Jones bitch about procedure for twenty minutes couldn’t hold a candle to the chance to chat up fireman Barnes. A part of Steve didn’t want to come right out and admit it, but the challenge Sam was lobbing his way wasn’t something he could make himself ignore. It had been weeks since his pathetic crush on Barnes was sparked at the NYPD vs NYFD baseball grudge match tournament and it was high time that he worked up the nerve to really do something about it.

Barnes was standing the Engine laughing at something an older fireman was saying. Steve set the coffee down and wiped his damp palms over the thighs of his khaki slacks, checking to make sure that his blue button down was evenly tucked in and wrinkle free. He fiddled with the badge hanging from the chain around his neck, adjusting it so it hung perfectly over his tie, as neat a picture as he could make of himself. With no other possible excuse to procrastinate, Steve picked up the coffee and started walking toward Barnes. 

The fireman Barnes was talking to nudged him and pointed to Steve’s approach. Barnes nodded and the other fireman left to join the group still watching the smoldering remains.

“Hey Steve,” Barnes said, leaning back against the fire engine like a page out of a classy pin up magazine. His yellow overalls were pooled around his hips and his jacket was off, leaving him only in his comfortable worn black wife beater. The tattoos on his muscular arms stood out in sharp relief, their colors bright against his fair skin- the red star on his left shoulder, the stylized blue wings on his right. His long hair was gathered up in a sloppy bun at the back of his head, mussed and wild thanks to the helmet and the heat. Steve tried to repress a shiver at the thought of crowding him in a warm shower and running his fingers through that hair until it was combed neatly- or riled into an even more drastic disarray.

“Fireman Barnes,” Steve said seriously, looking down at the cup of coffee in his hand so he wouldn’t have to look at the man before him and summarily fall all over himself like a fool.

“Oh come on, how many times do I have to whoop your ass on the field before I can get you to call me Bucky?” He said smiling coyly at Steve.

“Here,” Steve said, holding out the coffee cup for Bucky to take. Frowning curiously, Bucky did so, noting how adorably Steve twitched when he was nervous, sticking both his hands in his pockets.

The name on the Starbucks cup caught Bucky’s eye.

“You bought this for me?” He asked Steve, running his thumb over the loopy black sharpie “B”.

“Proof that I remember your first name,” Steve said, tentatively offering one of his dorky lopsided smiles.

“How’d you know I’d be on call?” Bucky asked, lifting the cup to take a sip. Steve shrugged, his face heating up.

“You didn’t, did you?” Bucky guessed grinning gleefully. “You just bought this on the off chance I’d be here. Steve, that’s so sweet it’s almost creepy.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, hunching his shoulders up around his ears. “I didn't mean to be a creep. I’ll go away now.”

“Steve, Steve,” Bucky called, laughing. He grabbed Steve’s arm with his free hand, keeping him from leaving and pulling the detective in closer. “Listen,” Bucky said, looking up at Steve through his eyelashes. “I’m throwing a party this weekend. Actually, my roommate Natasha is throwing it for me. I’m turning 26, lucky me,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes like the idea of celebrating his age was ridiculous. “You should come, though. It’ll be fun.” Bucky playfully smacked Steve’s shoulder, all boyish smile and mischievous eyes. So blue they shouldn’t have been allowed.

“I’ll be there,” Steve found himself saying. “Just tell me when and where.”

“I’ll check in with Nat and text it to you.”

“Oh, you have my number?” Steve said, wide-eyed and pleased. 

“Not yet,” Bucky said smoothly, pulling a sharpie out of one of his pockets, uncapping it with his teeth and holding the felt tip poised over the vulnerable skin on the underside of his forearm. His skin was smeared with black smoke, glistening with sweat in a way that made Steve want to rub his face all over him.

Steve rattled off his number, watching each digit mark Bucky’s skin as starkly as any of his tattoos. He stared at the sequence until Bucky recapped the sharpie and stuck it back in his pocket. 

“I don’t like to bring my phone on jobs anymore,” Bucky explained, noticing Steve’s preoccupation. “I’ve destroyed too many of them trying to take selfies while I was working.” 

“You took selfies inside burning buildings?” Steve asked, dumbstruck.

“Yo Barnes get a move on!” One of the other firemen called from behind the wheel of the engine. 

“Catch you later Stevie!” Barnes called, jogging up to the passenger side door and swinging himself in the cab and the engine roared to life. Steve stared on, still feeling a little gobsmacked. 

…

Steve spent four hours getting ready for Bucky’s party the next day. It was Saturday but in the lives of emergency service workers that rarely guaranteed time off. It was by pure luck that Steve wasn’t working and he intended to make the most of his time off, whittling down a long list of chores and “to do’s”. 

It’s not that he meant to spend those four hours primping for Bucky, it’s just that he woke up and automatically started picking out a tie instead of a pair of sweats. Even his morning jog didn’t manage to clear his head from alternatively fretting over and buzzing with anticipation about the party. All he could think about is that he wished he knew Bucky’s favorite color, or if Bucky thought blue brought out Steve’s eyes the way his mother always said it did. 

No matter what he was doing, chopping up lettuce for his chicken salad lunch or vacuuming the living room carpet, he couldn’t turn his mind off of Bucky. This was his one chance to make a good impression on the man outside of work or a baseball diamond. He needed to get this right. He wasn’t full of himself enough to believe he’d get another shot if he screwed this one up.

So he changed his pants five times, changed his shirt six (and ended up going with the first one he tried on). For the love of all that’s holy, he even texted Sharon to ask her which belt he should wear that would go best with his one good pair of shoes. 

He arrived at Bucky’s condo at precisely fifteen minutes to 9pm wearing his most flattering navy blue shirt, the one with the thin subtle stripes in a lighter shade of blue, buttoned all the way up to his throat (no tie, thanks to Sharon’s emphatic advice). He wore pressed khaki slacks and his hair was gelled and combed meticulously. The finishing touch on the whole ensemble was definitely his brown leather jacket, which was, unfortunately, the only thing he owned that even came close to making him feel cool or sexy as opposed to just presentable.

Bucky opened the door in nothing more than a white wife beater and some artistically ripped, artistically tight jeans. His lips were wrapped around the mouth of a bottle of beer and his hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail that made Steve want to bury his fingers in and mess it all up even more. 

He eyed Steve from head to toe as he took a long draw on his beer, lingering on the two items his guest was carrying. One was a small birthday present with improvised wrapping paper made out of the funnies which nonetheless still had inspection-ready hospital corners. The other package was a large tupperware bowl filled with some kind of pasta salad. 

“I wasn’t sure what to bring,” Steve said awkwardly, shifting his weight under the scrutiny and the silence. 

“You didn’t have to bring anything. I already got your other present, the one you sent by messenger. I didn’t open it, though,” Bucky assured him, still surprised at the gesture. 

“Oh,” Steve breathed, “Oh God, I should have known.” Steve looked toward the heavens. “Listen I was talking to my friend Tony about what I should get you and he got kind of excited and once he gets an idea in his head it’s nearly impossible to talk him out of it. Unilateral action is his mission in life.”

“Should I be afraid?” Bucky joked, but with that hard glint in his eye that only ex-military men and old cops ever had. 

“No!” Steve rushed to say. “Tony is just irritatingly extravagant, not malicious. And if there’s one thing you can say about the guy it’s that he puts everything to the test so if he says it works it probably does. Probably.” Steve shifted his weight from foot to foot, not sure how to proceed before squaring his shoulders and determining to make the best of the situation. 

“Where are my manners? My Ma would kill me for leaving you standing in the doorway like this. Why don’t you come in?” Bucky offered, stepping aside to make room for Steve to enter. “I’ll show you to the kitchen and we can put your incredibly thoughtful but also unnecessary pasta salad out next to the pizza.” Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky’s teasing, pausing just inside the door to toe off his shoes and then it’s Bucky’s turn to roll his eyes. 

Steve hadn’t really noticed the music before now despite how pulsing and loud it was, but the minute the door closed behind him there was no possible way to block it out anymore. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the song before but it always made him vaguely uncomfortable because no matter how much the woman claimed not to care, crashing a car into a bridge was serious, even if no one was actually hurt. He responded to a lot of domestic disputes and that’s all he could think of whenever the woman sang about throwing her partner’s things in a bag.

“Come on!” Bucky yelled over the noise, placing his hand firmly on the small of Steve’s back and steering him through the thick crowd of heavily drinking well-wishers. 

The room was lit only by party lights and the air was heavy and thick as only the press of many bodies could make it.

“There sure are a lot of people here Buck,” Steve screamed over the track as it switched abruptly to something by Beyonce that he couldn’t put a name to. “I thought I was gonna be early. I didn’t get the time wrong did I?”

“You know Stevie, you’re the only man I know who would show up fifteen minutes early to an adult’s birthday party.” Steve flushed, damn his fair complexion. “Which is why I purposely told you to be here an hour after the party started, so you could be fashionably late. Too bad you didn’t bring Starbucks this time,” he noted flirtatiously. 

Bucky took the present from Steve’s hands, opening the door nearest to them, which could only have lead to his bedroom. “We can open them together when things die down a little,” Bucky promised, with a flirty grin over his shoulder to Steve. He sent the gift down on his desk next to the considerably larger one ‘Hot Single Cop Steve’ had sent earlier. He closed and locked the door afterward, taking Steve’s hand again and wiggling them into the crowded kitchen. 

“Would you really have liked Starbucks better?” Steve asked anxiously. “I know homemade pasta salad isn’t really cool but I put a lot of effort into it, for what that’s worth.”

“Stop worrying Stevie, it’s worth a lot,” Bucky reassured him, sidling them up to the counter where four boxes of pizza had been mostly devoured. He took the tupperware from Steve’s hands and peeled the lid off, setting it up next to some paper plates and plastic utensils. 

Two party goers immediately drifted over to load up their plates, leaning into Bucky to whisper words of gratitude and celebration and shooting Steve shy but confident smiles.  
“They’re a cute couple,” Steve commented. 

“Wanda and Pietro?” Bucky asked, cocking an eyebrow. He looked back at the two as if considering it for the first time. “That would explain _a lot_ actually. Listen, Steve, thanks for the food and the presents. Present. Whatever. You really didn’t have to go to any trouble. I just invited you over to have a little fun, you know, loosen up some. I hope you didn’t stress over this or nothin’.” Steve smiled as Bucky’s Brooklyn accent grew stronger, but even the force of how cute he found that couldn’t overcome his nervousness, his desire to seem cool in front of Bucky.

“No! Of course not! What would make you think that I would stress over a party? Psh, no.” Steve said, tugging at his collar with his free hand. 

“In that case can I offer you something to drink?” Bucky asked, pulling open the fridge and waving a hand at the contents like a magician’s assistant. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine,” Steve demured. Or rather, demurred as much as was possible in a place so full of sound it rolled densely between people like a thrumming fog. Steve had a wild thought that Bucky’s neighbors probably wouldn’t be very happy with him for a while after this party. But then he found himself looking up through his lashes at Bucky and accepting a freshly opened beer.  
A sudden ruckus of happy exclamations and greetings exploded from the entryway just as their fingers brushed each other over the cold condensation of the bottle. Steve swallowed thickly and Bucky smiled at him, that charming devil-may-care smile that made Steve want to do anything for him just to see it again.

“Sounds like Clint and Natasha are back!” Bucky shouted happily over the noise of the crowd and the music. 

“Natasha your roommate?” Steve asked.

“The one and only,” a feminine voice agreed from behind him. Next to her stood what appeared to be several pizza boxes with a shapely set of masculine legs.

“Let me help with that,” Steve offered automatically, stepping forward to take the top half of the boxes while Bucky rummaged for a clean garbage bag and swept armfuls of empty bottles and cans off the counter to make room. They’d hardly set the boxes down before the flimsy grease stained containers were ravaged by famished party goers. 

Steve stood back, vaguely awed at the display.

“Most of them just got off shift and some of them have to go in a few hours,” Bucky said conversationally from by his shoulder. “A quarter of the poor bastards are EMTs and you know they live on Ramen or McDonald’s half the time. And my friends from the gym, well,” Bucky eyed Steve up and down pretty thoroughly. “You look like a man who knows what that’s like. Thor by himself can probably lift a herd of cattle and then eat ‘em.” 

“You got a lot of friends Buck,” Steve said wistfully.

“And you don’t?” Bucky scoffed incredulously. “Captain muscles and chivalry with the baby blues? I don’t believe it.” 

“Well,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve been told I’ve kind of got a tendency to start fights. And I’m not really good at talking to people either. I’m actually kind of shy when I’m not shooting my mouth off.”

“Now that I can believe,” Bucky said fondly, throwing his arm around Steve. “Clint! Nat! Come back over here an’ meet my friend Steve!” The two in question turned away from the carcasses of the pizza they’d brought and Steve could see Clint’s muscular arm slung casually across Natasha’s hip as his other hand shoved pizza into his face lovingly. Steve was impressed and disgusted- though not necessarily in that order.

“It’s so nice to meet you Steve,” Natasha said charmingly. “Bucky’s told us so much about you. He just went on and on. Several times. At length.” Bucky went red under her pointed look and Steve suddenly wondered exactly what Bucky had been saying, but before he could open his mouth to ask Bucky was steamrolling past the comment.

“Thanks again for the pizza Clint!” The statement was so full of false cheer that Steve frowned, wondering what he was missing besides the obvious.

“You know it’s not a thing bro,” Clint said with one cheek full of cheesy crust like a squirrel on the verge of a Game of Thrones worthy winter. To Steve, he said, “I work at Bella ‘Roni. The boss likes me. I get free pizza.” He spoke these words as if announcing that he’d discovered the location to the holy grail, or perhaps as a proud parent might boast of his child’s accomplishments. Natasha rolled her eyes but leaned into his arm all the same.

“Can you believe this idiot is an Olympic level archer? And what does he do in his spare time? Pizza,” she said, rolling her eyes as if disgusted but with a hint of a smile on her carmine lips.  
“I don’t _do_ pizza. It’s not like I’m fucking it.”

“You might as well,” Natasha banded back playfully.

“I resent that. I’m an artisan! No bubbles, no soggy crusts, no skimping on the sauce…”

“He’ll go on like this for a while,” Bucky confided in Steve’s ear, his warm breath tickling a little in the best kind of way. His arm was still around Steve and they were standing with the sides of their hips pressed together. It was something incredibly intimate in a room full of people Bucky cared for, his friends who were happy and numerous, but it felt like it was just them, cuddled together outside of the noise and the crowd. For one blinding second Steve was exuberantly happy.

Meanwhile Bucky was taking a pull off his beer and the track was changing over to another, faster paced one.

“I love this song!” Bucky yelled over Little Jon screaming “Turn down for what?”. Whoops and cheers rose up around them as Bucked chugged the last of his beer and Natasha rolled her eyes at him fondly. He stowed the empty bottle in the sink, rounding on Steve with such an excited expression that Steve felt preemptively bad, knowing he’d have to turn him down.  
“Come dance with me!” Bucky demanded, loose and wild, happy and carefree in a way that Steve could never imagine being.

“No,” Steve begged setting down his mostly full brew on the counter carefully so he can hold up his hands palms out before him. “I’m not much of a dancer, really. I’ve got two left feet and no rhythm.”  
“Don’t give me that horse shit,” Bucky scoffed, never losing his inebriated smile. “I’m a great lead and it’s my own damn party. It doesn’t matter if you’re the worst dancer here as long as you’re dancing with me.” It took Steve a minute to find his tongue. 

“Aw, Buck, I’m not- okay. Alright, if it’ll make you happy, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bucky’s smooth talking should be a registered weapon, Steve thought.

Steve was barely done speaking before Bucky was biting out a triumphant, “Fuck yeah!” and pumping his free fist in the air. 

He let one hand drag down Steve’s arm- Steve immediately and immensely regretted not wearing short sleeves- and then curled his fingers delicately around Steve’s wrist, making sure that Steve could break out of the grip if he wanted to. He really didn’t.

With a reassuringly warm smile and a brief rub of his thumb to the bone of Steve’s wrist Bucky pulled Steve firmly but carefully toward the living room-cum-dancefloor. Steve stumbled along behind Bucky, not because he was being manhandled too much (if he were honest he could do with a little _more_ manhandling) but because he was just not particularly good at navigating through crowds. He tried so hard to avoid touching anyone that he ended up bumping into everyone and apologizing so profusely that he didn’t see the next person before he crashed into them as well.  
When Buck was satisfied that they were wedged right in the middle of the writhing, warm slick bodies he turned to Steve and pulled his partner’s arms around his neck. Bucky’s hands felt their way down Steve’s spine until he came to Steve’s belt loops which he used to tug Steve in gently, pressing their hips together and rubbing his stubbled cheek over Steve’s smooth one. Bucky ground his hips into Steve’s rhythmically as Steve tried to imitate him with his own stiff jerky movements. 

Bucky shushed him, ridiculous given the fact that Steve hadn't said anything and that even if he did it would be a crapshoot as to whether or not Bucky would actually hear him. Bucky pressed against Steve’s lower back with one hand, forcing it to curve a little inwards toward him.

“Bend your knees,” He whispered, against Steve’s ear. “That’s it,” Bucky encouraged, “Now move in a circle, like this, you got it. It’s a lot like fucking, actually. Just imagine you have me on my back and it shouldn’t be too difficult.” Bucky probably thought he could embarrass Steve, saying something like that, but there was something about the homicide detective that Bucky, apparently, didn’t know. He couldn’t, physically _couldn’t_ , turn away from a challenge.

So Steve Rogers closed his eyes, inhaling the musky masculine smell of Bucky Barnes’s aftershave, and he got dirty with it. 

“Ohh,” Bucky moaned unexpectedly. “See Stevie? You know exactly what you’re doing. So good for me.” And that was sex talk if Steve’d ever heard it, so he figured he had to be doing something right.


	2. Chapter 2

It was hours later, when the clouds were rolling, wispy and ephemeral across the crooked chunk of moon that hung in the sky like a picture frame a drunk had bumped into at his friend’s house party and then never set straight before stumbling home. 

Clint and Natasha has disappeared into Natasha’s den of a room and hour and a half ago. It was strewn with scarves and fairy lights from the peak Steve had gotten when she’d called goodnight over her shoulder before pushing Clint on the bed and kicking the door closed behind her. The guests had either petered out into the night or passed out on or near Bucky’s furniture. 

Steve was leaning against Bucky’s solid sturdy weight, his cheek pressed into Bucky’s shoulder, feeling the warm smooth skin and smelling the welcoming fabric softener and the dampness of the sweat from their dancing. The firefighter’s arm was around him and Steve could feel the defined contours of muscle through the thin cotton of his button down. He’d never felt so comforted, so absolutely and unquestioningly safe, not since he was a child. He’d had more than a few beers over the hours and he was riding a warm happy buzz. His stomach was full, the condo was finally quiet, and he and Buck were mostly alone.

“Hey Stevie,” Bucky mumbled against his ear, nuzzling into the hair behind it and making Steve shiver. “How drunk are you doll? Can you walk straight?” Bucky’s thumb was rubbing little circles over Steve’s spine and it was distracting. So good.

“I could,” Steve spoke into Bucky’s shoulder. “But then you would have to stop touching me and I don’t want that. You make me feel so good Buck.” Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s shirt wishing he could bring them closer, but it was impossible like that, standing around all covered in clothes in the living room.

“I could make you feel even better,” Bucky offered smoothly. “But I just gotta know if you’re with it first Stevie, baby doll. I don’t wanna do nothin’ you’ll regret in the morning. We got all the time in the world.” That was one of the few things anyone could have said in that moment to make Steve pull back away from the comfort of Bucky’s shoulder, leaning back into his loose embrace to look him in the eyes.

“I’m in my right mind. You don’t need to worry about me like that. I’ve wanted this all night. I’ve wanted this for _weeks_.” Bucky groaned. 

“Why didn’t you say something sooner, punk?”

“What, and suck all the romance out of it?” Steve said, tilting his head so that the six foot plus 200-something pound homicide detective look coy and sweetly vulnerable in Bucky’s arms. It was a goddamn miracle and it made him giddy and ungodly thirsty to just see that luminous smile dawn forth again.

“Well at least then one of us would have been sucking _something_ ,” Bucky said with a goofy grin on his face. Steve bust up laughing helplessly, swaying further into Bucky’s arms as his eyes watered.

“Oh my god that was so bad. You’re such a jerk when you’re drunk Barnes.” Bucky grinned and rubbed his nose across Steve’s in a series of delicate little Eskimo kisses.

“Come on Stevie, sweetheart, babydoll, it’s time to give the birthday boy his present,” Bucky teased in a sultry whisper.

“Oh Christ,” Steve laughed, and didn’t stop until Bucky had stumbled over three of his drunk friends sprawled out on the floor and staggered his way down the dark hall that led to his room.  
“Mmm,” Steve hummed, wrapping his arms around Bucky and nuzzling into his hair from behind him as Bucky fiddled with the doorknob in a sudden fit of discoordination. He scraped his teeth over the back of Bucky’s neck, just slightly, not enough to hurt, and then he kissed right below the other man’s hairline. The fireman groaned deep in his throat. 

“You better quit that,” Bucky warned his full of gravel and embers that made Steve shiver and wish he was laid out on a bed beneath him, panting and pleading. “Unless you want me to strip you down right here,” Bucky added mischievously. “But I think you deserve to be laid out on my nice sheets. I want to take my time with you, make you forget your own name, ‘till you can’t say nothing but “Bucky” and “please”, or maybe “God” if you’re the religious type.” With that kind of motivation Bucky finally got the door open, holding Steve steady with one arm and pressing their hips together so they could squeeze inside without tipping over from their drunken imbalance.

Steve let his hand trail down Bucky’s front, his forefinger tracing over the top of his jeans in a slow deliberate tease. “I’m beginning to think you’re all talk.” Steve had barely gotten the words out before Bucky had grabbed him by the front of the shirt and licked his way into Steve’s mouth, his other hand groping at Steve’s ass, yanking his hips roughly to Bucky’s. He nibbled on Steve’s bottom lip, soothing the sting of his teeth with a warm swipe of his tongue. 

“All talk huh?” Bucky’s voice was lower than Steve had ever heard it, a possessive growl that made Steve weak in the knees and hot under the collar. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, licking at his tingling lips and swallowing and his mouth suddenly watered with need. He took a step back, and although the kicked puppy look on Bucky’s face made it clear how he felt about that idea he let Steve go without any kind of protest. Steve smiled at him softly, adoringly, and reached out to rub one thumb across Bucky’s cheek, tucking some of his loose wild hair behind his ear as Bucky pressed a nibbling kiss to his wrist. Steve pulled his hand away, regretfully, but he needed it so he could hold his arms out on either side of him and collapse back on Bucky’s big, fluffy, unmade bed. 

“You gonna unwrap your present Buck?” he asked, spreading his thighs apart, his sock-clad feet still dangling over the side and touching the floor. He was expecting Bucky’s manic grin and he got it for a second before it gentled into something more considering as Bucky stepped forward between Steve’s legs. Steve was suddenly and unaccountably nervous. He did his best not to let it show but to be honest he’d never won a game of poker in his life.

Bucky let the backs of his nails drag up Steve’s thighs, just a whisper of sensation through his slacks. 

“You can say ‘stop’ any time,” Bucky promised. “But I’m gonna take real good care of you Stevie. You got nothin’ to worry about as long as I’m here. Not on my life pal.” He cupped Steve’s hips with his palms, brushed his hands upwards, close enough to feel Steve’s body heat, the way his clean pressed shirt and been rumpled, sullied with beer and sweat. Bucky loved it, like he was already leaving his mark on Steve, proving for the world that he’d touched this man, he had helped this man have fun, had been the one to light the bonfire that was Steve Roger’s smile. 

He popped open the topmost button on Steve’s shirt.

“Did I ever tell you navy blue was my favorite color?” Bucky asked conversationally. Steadying himself as he leaned precariously over Steve’s supine body with a hand on his hip. 

“No,” Steve whispered, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I hoped you’d like it though. The shirt, I mean. Mom always said this color brought out my eyes.” Bucky ran his thumb nail over the next button, really taking his time to feel it pop free.

“Steve, I like you a whole lot pal, but you gotta promise me to never mention your mom when I’m undressing you again. Deal?”

“Whatever you say Buck,” Steve replied with an easy grin. “You do like the shirt though?” 

“I do,” Bucky soothed, undoing another button. Just one more left now. “I’ll like it better in a minute, though.” Bucky circled his thumb around the last button, pressing down just enough that Steve could feel the little motions between his belly button and his jeans. His hips twitched up and he made a little high pitched noise in the back of his throat. A flush spread across his cheeks, down his neck.

Bucky paused as he heard the tinkling of the chain falling out of Steve’s pocket. He paused to place it on the nightstand for him, but when it caught the dim light shining through the window Bucky couldn’t help but pause.

It was a St. Florian charm, the patron saint of firefighters. Bucky looked at Steve, his eyes wide. 

“I, um,” Steve stuttered, flushing with something close to humiliation. “I know it’s a little personal but I just couldn’t find the right gift and the one Tony forced me to bring was all wrong, I knew it was too much but this wasn’t right either-” Bucky shut Steve up by kissing him.

“This is perfect. What does one Irish boy get another to keep him safe? A Catholic saint. You’re a God damn angel Steve, my own beautiful baby.” Bucky slipped the necklace over his head and doubled down on making his sweet baby squirm.

“You make such pretty noises for me sweetheart,” Bucky praised, freeing that last button magnanimously and pulling the shirt from Steve’s waistband at once. “Let’s hear you make some more.” His mouth curved into an uneven grin, his hair escaping its tie more and more to hang over his eyes, framing his face as he unbuttoned and unzipped his lover’s pants. 

“You and your lines, I swear to God,” Steve muttered, redder in the cheeks than ever, his eyes glassy and his tongue swiping quickly across his lower lip which was still a little damp from their kisses.

“Mmm,” Bucky agreed absently, more focused on tugging Steve’s jeans off than anything else. “You like my lines though.” Now Steve was splayed out on Bucky’s bed in just his open shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs and Bucky was very, very pleased indeed.

“I do,” Steve confessed, looking honestly flummoxed about the fact.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Bucky crooned, running his hands up his bed partner’s perfect legs, muscular but shapely and long as any country road. “Like my own private art exhibit. Parta me just wants to watch you touch yourself all night, work three fingers in yourself and put on a little show for me, writhing on my bed all beautiful and debauched, desperate and needy, ‘till I knew I was the only thing that could cool you down ‘n give you some release.

“I aint gonna do that though,” Steve actually groaned, snuck a peak downward and was mortified to see the front of his boxer briefs was already darkening, damp with precome. “I’ve wanted you for so long I ain’t that patient right now,” Bucky confided, stripping off his wifebeater and undoing his own ripped up black jeans to push them casually down his legs as Steve’s knees inched wider apart of their own accord. 

“Wanna get my teeth in you. Just gotta baby, my sweet baby boy, look at you, so pretty laid out for me, so good.” Bucky crawled over Steve, ducking his head down with a mischievous wink to lap at Steve’s belly button, making him giggle and squirm and kick half heartedly at his lover who blew a raspberry against the damp flesh and made Steve squeal in an incredibly manly and ineffectual way.  
Bucky laughed joyously, pinning down Steve’s flailing body with his own and kissing along his collar bones in apology. Steve glared at him, all mussed and lovely in his arms and Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to take it seriously. He leaned up to kiss at Steve’s pouty lips and it only took a few minutes for his baby to stop pretending to be reluctant about it. Bucky sucked at his lips, nibbling and then soothing the sting of it with a swipe of his tongue. 

Steve started to grind his hips up into Bucky’s in little circles, and whined when Bucky pushed himself to his hands and knees, taking away the friction. 

“None of that now,” Bucky admonished him playfully as he shimmied down Steve’s legs to rearrange the two of them lengthwise on the bed and then peel down Steve’s boxer briefs and toss them aside. His mouth watered- the other man’s dick was thick and long, pale at the base but flushed apple red at the tip, curved gently toward his stomach. The most perfect cock he’d ever seen, and it wasn’t just the buzz and the endorphins saying that. Steve was blushing more than ever, his eyes staring hard at Bucky waiting for some reaction he could grab onto. 

Bucky had the wild thought that it seemed almost like he was taking Steve’s virginity, but that was ridiculous- absolutely preposterous- for a man of Steve’s age with so much to offer. He was kneeling between Steve’s spread legs. So Bucky just leaned forward and licked a wet stripe up the underside with the flat of his tongue and sucked at the tip while Steve’s hips bucked up, his heels digging into the sheets and his head thrown back. The taste was bitter but perfect, exactly what he was craving. He knew what he wanted. Bucky leaned back again, watching Steve’s flushed chest as it heaved for breath, the man himself staring at the ceiling with his hands fisted in Bucky’s navy sheets. 

He rubbed a soothing hand along Steve’s thigh, pressing circles with his thumb and patiently waiting for him to calm down enough for him to suggest what he had in mind. When Steve’s eyes met with Bucky’s again Bucky stood, carefully balancing on the bed in his inebriated state. Steve swallowed, his throat bobbing noticeably as Bucky worked his own boxer briefs down his legs and threw them to join Steve’s somewhere on the floor. Steve’s lips parted a little as his eyes roved over Bucky- all of him, bared for someone else for the first time in a long while. He felt vulnerable with Steve but definitely in a good way. Freeing. 

He kneeled back down where he was, feeling an electric pulse of pride as Steve’s eyes stayed riveted to his bobbing dick.

“Turn over,” Bucky instructed, his voice husky and low, making him think of sparks being raked over glowing coals. Steve groaned, a happy kind of noise and did as he was asked without hesitation, his hands kneading at the pillow on either side of his head. 

“Let me know if it’s too much,” Bucky murmured, rubbing his hands over Steve’s back and circling his thumbs at the base of his spine. Steve hummed contentedly and nodded against his pillow. Bucky ran his hands under Steve’s shirt, just admiring the soft curve of his spine the smooth feeling of his warm skin. He pulled the shirt down over Steve’s broad shoulders, pausing and considering undoing the cuffs before deciding on a better idea. He bunked the fabric around Steve’s trapped wrists, twisting it expertly so that it would hold there and bind them together just as long as Steve didn’t pull at it too hard. Bucky patted Steve’s hip, satisfied with his work.

He pulled up Steve’s hips and watched him press his face further into the pillow and get comfortable while Bucky dug around in the bedside drawer for the lube. Steve’s hips twitched. He groaned in frustration, sliding his knees apart a little more.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky consoled him. “I haven’t forgotten about you beautiful.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Steve groaned, flexing his fingers in the sheets. Bucky uncapped the bottle and squeezed out a generous portion, warming it between his palms before touching Steve again.  
“You keep up that smart mouth pal, you see where that gets ya,” Bucky teased, smacking his partner gently on his rump. Steve immediately thrust his hips back making a helpless little sound that belied his desperation. Bucky ran one palm over his spine again cooing soothingly at his lover as he gently circled his entrance with one finger. 

“You can’t rush the good things,” Bucky whispered, pressing inside slowly. Steve made a sound that he took for agreement, pressing a little further in with a thoughtful hum. “You’re so tight sweetie, so tense. You’ve gotta take the time to relax more babydoll. I’ll help you with that, I’ll help you unwind, just let go baby, I gotcha.” Steve cried out sweetly, grinding back into Bucky as he withdrew his finger and pressed two more back in easy. 

“There you go, that’s so good baby, you’re so good to me,” Bucky praised, but Steve had lost all capacity for speech and could only moan as Bucky curled a finger deliberately across his prostate. He reached his other hand around under his lover to tweak his nipple, pinching and rolling it with his thumb. Fat tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks and he scrubbed his face against the pillow.  
“Are you okay,” Bucky cooed, stilling both hands. 

“Y-yeah,” Steve hiccoughed. “It’s just a lot, you know?” 

“I know baby,” he assured, slowly beginning to move his fingers again, pressing his front along Steve’s back so he could reach far enough around him to tease at his other nipple, keeping both sources of stimulation less intense than before, trying his best to keep Steve just on the cusp. He focused his attention away from Steve’s prostate, stretching and widening his loosening hole, pulling back to run his thumb along his quivering rim. He pressed reverent kisses along the small of his back, letting the fingers of his free hand to trail and pet at the miles of milky skin, over-warm and trembling under his touch. 

It wasn’t long before Bucky had worked three fingers inside, massaging gently at his lover and adding more slick from the bottle. 

“Are you ready love?” He asked when Steve was trembling beneath him, gasping desperately for breath and sobbing into the pillow. He nodded, needy and far gone. 

“Wait,” Steve breathed, Bucky stilled immediately. “Wait, I want to see you.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said, slipping his fingers free and petting at Steve’s flank gently. Between the two of them they shuffled and repositioned clumsily. Steve was so nervous and hyped up he felt as if his bones had turned to shivering jelly. He struggled against his restrained hands, looking to Bucky, frustrated. The fireman snorted, untangling the cotton from around Steve’s wrists and kissing them where they were a little irritated from the tugging. 

At long last they were chest to chest, Steve’s arms and legs wrapped around him, embracing him. Bucky leaned them both back down and pulled his messy sheets over them. 

“Is that better Stevie?” Bucky asked between quick soft little kisses. 

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “I’m ready now Buck.” He ran a hand through Bucky’s hair. Bucky grinned and kissed his nose playfully, watching Steve turn his head away to hide his smile. With a deep glowing warmth building in his chest and spreading to an anticipatory tingle in his fingers, Bucky hitched Steve’s leg over his hip and sunk in home with a groan. It was better than tasting honey or standing in the warm rain, better than all the adrenaline of saving lives from a fire, better than a cool drink on a hot day. Steve’s arms tightened around him as he gave a hitching sigh, he pressed his fingers to Bucky’s unshaven cheek guiding his face back to Steve’s. His clear blue eyes were streaming with gold like sun gilding the ocean.

“Did I hurt you?” Bucky asked, his arms trembling already. He’d never been so overcome so early in the act before. He couldn’t bare it if this, which was like a breaking dawn for him, was something less for Stevie. If he’d done something to hurt him. 

“It’s good,” Steve assured him, rubbing their noses together. He rubbed his chilly toes against Bucky’s calf. “You goin’ soft on me Barnes? Come on, we don’t got all night.”

“Oh,” Bucky groaned, as he began moving. “One of these days I’m gonna have to find a better use for that smart mouth of yours, baby.”

“Mmm,” Steve agreed, gripping at Bucky’s hip, his shoulder. “Kiss me now, enough teasin’.” Bucky was a smart man and he knew when to do what he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out at [ my Tumblr](http://heartofthemirror.tumblr.com/) for even more strange famdon weirdness and feels.
> 
> Kudos comments and reviews are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Steve woke up groggy and dry mouthed as soon as dawn began tentatively peeking through the window. The first thing that he noticed was the sun drifting in through the half closed curtains. The second thing he noticed was how warm he was. There was an arm curled around his waist and a face pressed into his shoulder. That wasn’t the only part of his bed partner pressing into him. Thinking about it made Steve relish the pleasant ache in his backside. 

He wiggled around in the pleasant cage of Bucky’s arms. Not only was Steve’s foot asleep but his bladder was quietly, urgently demanding attention.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky murmured through the curtain of his own hair, pressing closed mouthed kisses to Steve’s ear and neck and he wiggled more and more. Steve turned over in Bucky’s arms, craning his neck to place a quick chaste kiss on his bed partner’s mouth.

“As much as I’d love to snuggle in bed all day I really do have to take a leak,” Steve said, reaching behind himself to gently unlace Bucky’s fingers. Bucky groaned, rolling on to his back and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Why’d you gotta kill the romance Stevie?” Bucky called after him, only peaking a little at his butt as he was walking toward the en suite. 

…

“Finally,” Bucky groaned when Steve reappeared a few moments later. “I was beginning to think I’d die alone here, pinin’ after my baby.” Steve rolled his eyes, crawling up the bed until he was nestled into Bucky’s side.

“I was gone literally two minutes. You’re the least patient man on Earth. I used one of your spare toothbrushes. I hope you don’t mind but I couldn’t go all day with that stale beer taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t mind. Minty mornin’ kisses are the best,” Bucky flirted, darting a kiss to Steve’s shoulder. 

“Don’t think you’re gonna get any kisses out of this cop until you brush your teeth too mister.” Steve belied his words by rubbing his nose along Bucky’s, feeling Bucky’s morning stubble with his minty lips.

Just as their lips were about to meet he heard the screeching tone of the police scanner going off in the corner of the room. Bucky groaned, his forehead touching Steve’s. Bucky quirked his head to listen to the dispatcher’s fuzzy voice describe the fire that had broken out to the responders en route.

“Ignore it or turn it off,” Steve said against Bucky’s lips. “Just get back here and kiss me.”

“Can’t,” Bucky said, kissing him anyway.

“Are you on call?” Steve asked, scandalized. 

“No,” Bucky said, kissing Steve once again before pushing up and away from him. “Listen, do you trust me Steve?”

“‘Course,” Steve said, leaning up on his elbows with that adorable furrow in his brow. 

“Then trust that there’s nowhere on earth I’d rather be than here with you, right now,” Bucky said, looking at Steve seriously. “But there’s something I really need to check out. I can’t ignore this fire, not if it’s what I think it is.”

“You aren’t makin’ a lick of sense,” Steve complained, sitting up fully. “Stop beating around the bush and just tell me what you think is going on.”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” Bucky stalled, biting his lip and casting his eyes at his closet as if he wasn’t sure if he should be dressed for this conversation or not.

“Hey,” Steve said, catching Bucky’s chin and resting his thumb right against the adorable little cleft there. “Listen, I already think you’re a raving lunatic. You were stupid enough to take up with a cop, a homicide detective for Christ’s sakes. Compared to that, anything you’re about to say will probably sound reasonable.” Steve’s face looked so sincere Bucky might have missed the mischief around his eyes if he weren’t looking for it. Bucky snorted and nipped halfheartedly at Steve’s fingers.

“You remember that fire a coupla days ago? The 0300 in the two-story residential building?” Steve nodded, caressing Bucky’s cheekbone with his thumb. “There were signs of accelerants.” The furrow between Steve’s eyebrows was back in force, as was the disapproving frown that almost made _Bucky_ hang his head and apologize.

“Fire Marshal Sitwell said it was an accident,” Steve said.

“Yeah, that’s what he said,” Bucky agreed with a dark tone and a significant look. “No one in the department wants to question Sitwell. I’m not saying they’re looking the other way, they’re good guys but no one wants to get on the wrong side of a Fire Marshal and it’s not like we're really trained for investigations. It’s easy to second guess yourself, you know? But I saw the pattern on the wood, clear as day. I’ve been doing this since I was eighteen. I know what accelerant scorch patterns look like. That last fire we were at, the 0426 two story residential that spread to the five surrounding houses, that one had them too. Everyone at the Hall knows Sitwell’s gonna call that one an accident too. Something’s not right in Denmark Stevie and no one wants to put their neck on the line far enough to figure out what it is.”

Steve took a deep breath. “You’re not the only one who’s been feeling like something isn’t right with the recent flare up in fires. If you think this one might be the next in the line then I trust you. We should get down there and see what we can see before anyone can contaminate the crime scene too badly.” Thus agreed, Bucky and Steve pulled on their clothes (Bucky sharing because Steve, as it turned out was a bit of a neat freak about his person and also because Bucky got a hot satisfied primal feeling at seeing Steve dressed in his clothes). 

The third fire was another residential building, this one fully detached unlike the last, so it didn’t have the same chance to spread. Bucky’s friends in the Department lent him the equipment and let him peek in to take a look around on the promise that he would explain everything later and not touch anything that could be evidence. 

“Exactly the same,” Bucky reported to Steve. “Pour pattern around the body just like the others. I got a feeling this is our guy.”

“What’s Sitwell saying about it?” Steve asked.

“I didn’t get close enough to ask,” Bucky said. “But I heard him talking about holding seminars in partnership with AA to cut down on the number of house fires caused by alcoholic smokers.” Steve took a deep irritated breath.

“I’ll call Sam and fill him in. I’ll have him grab the files and meet us. See if we can’t find some connection between the victims, or maybe some connection to Sitwell.” 

“Are we headed to the station?” Bucky asked as he climbed in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. 

“No. I kind of have a friend, a contractor I met in Afghanistan who kind of owes me a favor. He does a lot of work with computer things and I think he might be able to help us find a connection.”

“You can’t bring a civilian in on this!” Bucky said, aghast.

“He’s not exactly a civilian,” Steve said wincing.

…

“Tony fucking Stark,” Bucky said fifteen minutes later, standing on the top floor of Stark Tower. It was the third time Bucky had said this since they had entered the building. It was all Bucky had said since they entered the building. Steve winced.

“Listen, I would have told you but I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Steve said.

“So Buckin’ bronco, did you like the present I got- I mean Steve- got you?”

“No offense man but I opened the more important present first, if you take my meaning,” Bucky said, giving Stark a very suggestive eyebrow and a nod in Steve’s direction that caused the detective’s face to blush like a hot air balloon. 

Stark did nothing more than give Bucky an equally impressed eyebrow back and offer a fistbump which was cooly accepted. 

“Okay, so it took me and JARVIS all of two minutes to pinpoint your point of connection. At least one victim from each fire was involved in an experimental trial for an HIV medication. I’m not talking volunteers, I’m talking pharmacist, a member of a medical testing oversight board, and a doctor overseeing the trials. Three guesses who lost a child that was participating in that trial? Our own dear Fire Marshal Sitwell.”

“I owe you one Tony,” Steve said.

“No Cap, I’m pretty sure saving me from an attempt on my life in a foreign country and exposing the fact that a man I trusted paid for it to go down kind of entitles you to a lifetime of little favors.”

“I owe you one,” Steve said more forcefully. Bucky and Tony shared an eyeroll behind his back.

All it took was a call to arrest Sitwell but it was something Steve and Bucky wanted to do personally. It was Tony’s fault that the press was involved and that Steve, Bucky and Sam got plastered on the front page. 

...

“You know it’s still technically my birthday,” Bucky said, “and we definitely have the rest of the day off.” Steve wasn’t hard to convince. They were back in Bucky’s bed.

Steve bit at Bucky’s lip, hungry, ravenous, and he felt the sweet give, the salt and copper tang of blood that made him buck his hips up unconsciously.

Bucky broke away, gasping, looked down at the faint red smear on Steve’s kiss abused red lips and ground his erection down into his bed partner’s. His desire, usually just the warm glow of comfortable embers, was a gasoline fire, roaring out of control, consuming, maddening. “Come on, come on, fuck,” Bucky muttered challengingly into Steve’s ear, running the tip of of his tongue over the sensitive outer rim of Steve’s ear. He bit down just enough to sting, to make Steve’s body bow up into his. 

It was a long time before Bucky left the bed again.

...

When he came back with water for them both and a cold slice of pizza jammed in his mouth he saw the present Steve had brought him at Tony’s apparently enthusiastic insistence.

“I’ve got to see what Tony Stark thought was a perfect present,” Bucky said delightedly after he’d set the water and food down. He grabbed the present and hopped up on the bed next to Steve. 

“Just open it you jerk,” Steve said, smiling, leaning against the headboard. “And for the record I was asking him about disposable ones and he totally got out of hand and threatened to buy your apartment building and pay a years rent if I didn’t take the gift he’d ‘slaved over’ for a whole hour,” Steve said teasingly.

Bucky tried to open the gift carefully, setting his drink down to use both hands to carefully tease the tape from the newspaper, but there was no saving something that was meant to be disposable from the start and which wasn’t even being used for its intended purpose. He eventually gave up and ripped it away with a sheepish smile to Steve, who couldn’t care less that his improvised decoration had been destroyed. It was Bucky’s reaction that he was really eager to see.

“Holy motherfucking shit Steve! Do you know how much this must’ve cost?! Of course you do, Tony Stark gave it to you. I can’t accept this, it’s too much.” The camera in Bucky’s hands was aquamarine, sleek and impressive from it’s photo on the side of the packaging. 

“That’s exactly what I said! Tony has a way of wearing you down and he’s been working at me for years. I’ve learned when to pick my battles. I figure if you're really not interested you can just donate it to a charity or something. Hey, at least you can safely take selfies at fires again.” Steve tried for a winning smile. Bucky looked down at the camera in his hands- the latest, highest definition, portable, and damn near indestructible, lauded as the best tool for adventure seekers and extreme sports enthusiasts. It was clearly custom, very Stark. “You’re sure about this,” Bucky asked faintly.

“Trust me, at this point it’d be more difficult tryin’ to give it back then anything else,” Steve said seriously. Bucky bit his lip, hesitating just a moment before grabbing a pocket from his nightstand drawer and cutting open the tape to turn the device over wonderingly in his hands.

“You know this is the most ridiculous gift I’ve ever got. And it wasn’t entirely Tony’s idea, either. You’re the one who remembered about my phone and it’s the thought that counts so your definitely takeing at least 75% of the credit for this. You’re a regular Prince Charming, you know that Detective?” Bucky said as he ripped open the packaging and turned on the precharged camera.

“Well you can tell Tony that the birthday boy says thank you. Hey Steve? Smile.” Steve looked up in time to see the flash go off as Bucky took his first picture with the camera. He peered at the LED screen devilishly. 

“What do you say to one more birthday present?” Buck said devilishly looking between a shocked Steve and his shiny new camera. Steve’s mouth gaped.

“Day two of a relationship is not the sex tape mile marker!” he shouted. Natasha or Clint pounded on the wall. Steve flushed down to where the blanket pooled in his hips.

“So is that a no then?” Bucky asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me at [ my Tumblr](http://heartofthemirror.tumblr.com/) if you like.
> 
> Rates comments and reviews are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out at [ my Tumblr](http://heartofthemirror.tumblr.com/) for even more strange famdon AUs and sometimes art.
> 
> Rates comments and reviews are always welcome!


End file.
